


take this sinking boat and point it home

by hemakeshimstrongx



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Christmas, Happy Ending, Harry Paints His Nails, Harry Styles Loves Louis Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, M/M, Married Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Office Party, Reminiscing, Sad Harry, Sad Louis, Wine, but thats how he likes it, her name is luna, i literally don't even know, thats it idk, they love their daughter sm, uhhhh, very little mention of louis' bday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemakeshimstrongx/pseuds/hemakeshimstrongx
Summary: it's christmastime, harry and louis aren't what they used to be. all louis wants to do is come home.





	take this sinking boat and point it home

**Author's Note:**

> CHRISTMAS FIC! no exchange this year but i've still written a christmas fic cos i love them!!! this one is to hoping for snow by the vamps!! the title is from falling slowly, which is originally by the frames. 
> 
> this is dedicated to jay and robin and their loved ones. 
> 
> happy reading to all and to all a good write.

******_i’ve made mistakes  
_ ** **_but so have you  
_ ** **_it’s been a year of nothing new  
_ ** ****_and now i’m waiting for this to unfold_

 

Louis is late. He’s late to his daughter’s winter dance recital, and she’s going to have his head over it. She’s going to talk his ear off in the car, or maybe not talk to him at all (and that’s even  _ worse _ ), if he misses even a second of her performance. Even Lottie’s there already – and she’s even less punctual than he is. “Oh, fuck me,” Louis mutters when faced with the packed crowd. He tries to spot his family, knowing that they’ll be up close to the front and being correct in assuming that. 

He spots Lottie’s blonde head and the open seat right next to her. Louis waits until the dance class onstage is done with their routine before hurrying to his seat. Of course, the open seat is right between his sister and his almost-ex. But Luna also has this  _ thing  _ about having Harry and Louis in the same place, he’s beginning to think she does it on purpose. She pitches a fit if they’re not getting along even in the slightest; she can sense the smallest amount of tension and it drives Louis absolutely nuts. 

“Punctual as ever, aren’t you, Tomlinson?” Harry says under his breath, eyes browsing the pamphlet the dance studio gives out. 

Louis snatches the pamphlet from him. He didn’t get one. “Sorry I’m  _ working  _ to support  _ our  _ daughter.” 

“I’m sure Luna cares very much about the PR campaign of the next big company,” Harry still hasn’t even  _ looked _ at him. God, it makes Louis’ blood boil. 

Thankfully, Lottie prevents Louis from snapping back at him. “Luna’s up next. You made it just in time. I won’t snitch on the fact that you were here late, so don’t worry about it.” 

“Lottie, have I ever told you that you’re my favorite family member?” 

“Yes. Then you looked Luna in the face and told her that you were lying about that. She’s your favorite.” 

For a five year old, Luna dances rather well. She knows what she’s doing (thanks to hours of at home practice that she put herself through), unlike some of the other girls in the class. She dances with grace that she only could have picked up from Louis, because they all know that Harry has none of that. She got the rhythm from Harry, but the technique and stability from Louis. 

It’s just a dance recital, she’ll do bigger and better things, but Louis still can’t help the tears that come to his eyes while she dances, and the smile that breaks out on his face when she waves excitedly at them. 

Louis and Harry manage to keep their snide remarks to themselves for the remainder of the recital, and when Luna pulls them into a Family Group Hug after the recital. Lottie and Tommy give her flowers and Louis has to promise her the greatest Christmas present ever as a reward for doing so well. 

“Papa, am I coming home with you?” she asks, looking up at Louis with wide eyes. 

“No, love. You’re going with your dad for the weekend. I’ll see you again on Monday, we talked about this today.” 

“What about when she’s off from school for the week?” Harry asks. He gives Louis a look similar to the one that their daughter just gave them. It strikes Louis heart when he sees that similarity between them. “And Christmas?” 

Louis sighs, shooting Lottie a pleading look. She understands immediately, coaxing Luna to come with her through the parking lot to the car. Harry and Louis stand there, in the cold, staring at each other. “I have to work during the week. I’m there until the twentieth.” 

“Friday,” Harry nods. “I have off, thank God. So I can watch her during that week.” 

“I have to go see my family on Christmas Day,” Louis tells him. “I’d like to take Luna with me.” 

At this time last year, Harry would’ve been coming with Louis to his family’s house, but Louis just isn’t sure that’s going to happen this year. “You can come to mine on Christmas Eve, my mum’s coming with Gem.” 

And Harry didn’t even call it  _ home;  _ because that’s what it was. Louis was the one who left, Harry still lives at home. He called it  _ his,  _ not  _ theirs.  _ “Alright. Are… are you going to come to see my family?” 

Harry’s begun to bounce in place in the cold air, and he shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe. I’m gonna go, Luna’s probably getting impatient.” 

Harry leaves Louis standing in front of the theatre, freezing and heartbroken and missing his daughter even though he just had her. He misses more than his daughter, he misses Harry, and he misses his house, his bed, the breakfasts that Harry would make. He misses all of it, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to be able to get it back. Harry just seems so  _ bitter  _ and unreachable. And if that’s not a testament to how their final months were together, Louis doesn’t know what is. 

It’s his fault, really. Louis never lets himself forget whose fault it is: his own. Harry tried to get through to him, tell him to stop working so much and be more present and stop smoking so much and just… Be a husband, be a  _ dad.  _ But Louis’ stubborn - they both are - and Harry was gone before Louis could even blink. 

Louis isn’t sure he’ll ever get Harry back. 

 

His flat is helplessly lonely without Luna there. Louis tries to make himself busy; he drinks a beer and watches the sports channel and does a bit of work and reaches out to Dan about this year’s Christmas festivities (he doesn’t even get a reply). It’s a Friday night, usually Niall is on Louis’ ass about trying to get Louis out, especially after him and Harry split, but now Niall has a girlfriend and he’s preoccupied. Even Zayn’s left Louis alone for the most part; Louis’ sure it’s because he’s too wrapped up in his own head. 

Louis hates this apartment he’s got to rent. He couldn’t crash with Niall or Zayn because he’s not eighteen – he’s turning twenty eight – and he has a daughter who needs some sort of stability from him. Louis feels the need to make her excessively comfortable, because it’s his fault that some nights she can’t see her other dad and she has to come sleep in this shitty flat where she doesn’t even have her own  _ bedroom; _ she either has to share with Louis or if she’s feeling bratty, doesn’t share at all and makes him sleep on the couch. It’s right down the road from their house - although, technically, it’s Harry’s house now, he supposes. 

His cell phone rings around nine, and part of Louis dreads it being a work call; but it’s not. It’s Dan, thank God. Louis picks up and goes to say hello, but Dan’s already talking over him. “Sorry I didn’t text you back earlier, I was trying to get Ernie and Doris to go to sleep. They always went down so much easier for your mum.” 

Louis smiles sadly. “I’m sure you’re doing a great job.” 

“I do what I can. To answer your question about Christmas. You, Luna, and Harry are welcome here, of course. You can come on Christmas Day like you did last year, that’ll work fine. We’ll have everyone here like we always do, if that works for you.” 

“Yeah! Of course. Luna will be happy to see the girls and Ernie again. And, uh, I’m not sure if Harry will be coming yet? It all really hinges on how badly Luna wants him there and how… civil he and I can be.” 

Dan sighs. “Still no change?” 

“Well, I’m still renting a flat for myself so,” Louis laughs dryly. This isn’t funny; it never was and never will be. But he doesn’t have any other reaction other than that.  _ That’s _ the downside of turning himself off emotionally so it wouldn’t hurt so much when Harry left him. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” he lies, just to tide Dan over until Christmas Day. 

He has to have some form of hope because otherwise his family catches on, Harry catches on,  _ Luna  _ catches on. Louis, truthfully, doesn’t know if he’ll ever get Harry back. Harry doesn’t seem to want to come back. Luna asks about it sometimes, wonders why she has to come stay with papa in his flat while daddy’s at home. Louis tells her that they’re just trying something new, and then he wonders silently to himself about what Harry tells Luna when she asks. 

So, Louis’ playing a waiting game. He’s stepping back and saying, “Okay, hit me with whatever you’ve got. I’m just gonna wait.” 

 

**_they raise a glass, but i’m all sad  
_ ** **_i keep awake and spirits high  
_ ** ****_it’s you i’m hoping to meet in the cold_

 

Driving up the driveway feels familiar yet foreign to Louis all at the same time. He hasn’t been back to the house since Harry kicked him out; all the other times they’d either picked Luna up from school or Harry’s dropped her off at Louis’. This time, Louis offered to come pick her up because he felt bad that Harry was always running her around. This is Louis stepping up. 

He rings the doorbell to his own house. Harry opens the door not a second after it rings. “Luna’s grabbing her stuff,” Harry says. “You can, uh, come inside. She kind of takes a while.” 

Louis nods, following Harry into the house. His house.  _ Their  _ house. “I talked to Dan the other day. I’m gonna go over there on Christmas Day. I wanna bring Lune with me.” 

“Okay, we’ll all go,” Harry says decidedly. “And you can come over here on Christmas Eve; at least give my mum the hope that we’re getting any better.” 

Louis’ heart breaks. “You don’t think we are?” 

Harry just sighs, shakes his head. “I don’t know, Louis. Nothing’s changed. We still barely see each other, let alone  _ talk _ –“ 

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t let me come  _ home,  _ Harry!” Louis hears the sudden rise in his voice and quickly gets himself in check. “Maybe if you let me come home and get out of that shitty flat, we could try to do something.” 

“I just… I don’t know if I’m ready to do that.” 

Louis goes to bite back, but takes a deep breath. “H. We need to  _ talk.  _ Luna’s gonna be with Ernie and Doris this afternoon for a playdate. If I can convince Lots to watch the three of them, can we  _ please  _ talk?” It’s his hail mary; this talk he wants to have. If he can’t convince Harry to let him back in the house, two things are going to happen to Louis: he’s going to go mad, and he’s going to lose any hope he has left in him. 

The flat is a lonely place of isolation and sadness. It doesn’t have any hope, and it drains the hope right out of Louis every time he walks through the door alone. 

Harry sighs. “Fine. Fine, Louis. You can pitch your case or what-fucking-ever it is you want to achieve by talking.” 

Louis exhales heavily. He’ll take it. “Luna, come  _ on,  _ love! Ernie and Doris are waiting for you, bug!” he calls, looking away from Harry and toward the living room, where Luna has finally sat down and begun putting her shoes on. 

When he looks back at Harry, he’s still staring. Louis doesn’t call him out on it, instead he starts walking towards the door in hopes it gets Luna to put a little pep in her step. It, surprisingly, does. Luna bounds toward the door with her overnight bag on her back and a grin on her face. “Hi, papa. Are we still seeing Ernest and Dory today?” 

“Yes we are, they’re already over at Aunt Lottie’s. I’m going to let you stay there and play for a little bit while I go do something  _ really  _ important,” he explains, holding the door open for her.

“What do you have to do?” 

“Top secret Christmas stuff. I can’t tell you,” he lies, meeting Harry’s eyes one last time before shutting the door. They make it all the way to the car before Luna exclaims that she forgot to say goodbye to her dad. She drops her bag on the seat and runs back up to the front door, ringing the doorbell aggressively. 

Louis groans, leaning against the car as he waits for Luna to come back. She gives Harry a hug and holds him by the shoulders and looks him in the eye while she tells him something that  _ must  _ be important. Then she rushes back to the car and throws herself in, looking at Louis expectantly to buckle her seatbelt for her. 

“You’re not old enough to do your own seatbelt?” Louis asks, only slightly teasing, as he buckles her in. 

“Just want you to do it. M’tired.” 

“ _ Tired?  _ You’re five years old, you’re not supposed to be tired. What’s got you so tired?” he asks, starting the car. 

“Daddy and I watched  _ Elf  _ last night. He let me stay up!” 

Louis knows this is the first time Luna has ever seen  _ Elf  _ and he’s kind of offended and heartbroken that she watched it without him there. Harry let her stay up and watch Elf and they probably had popcorn and cuddled and laughed and she probably loved it. Louis doesn’t say anything about it to Luna, obviously. He might mention it when he sees Harry, but only if the opportunity comes up. 

Luna is full of chatter and questions all the way to Lottie’s house. Before he even shuts the car off, Doris comes running out to greet him. “Lou, I started playing footie in the house and Tommy let me but then Lots told us to stop!” she pouts, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. 

“You’re gonna drive Aunt Lottie nuts today, aren’t you?” 

“She’s gonna drive  _ us  _ crazy, you’re staying here, aren’t you? Hi, Luna love.” she smiles warmly at Luna, who barely spares her a greeting before running into the house with Doris. 

“About staying here, Lots…” Louis trails off, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve gotta go talk to H.” 

“Talk to him about what?” Lottie arches her eyebrows. 

“I’m making my pitch to move back home. Because I’m going absolutely nuts in that flat and I feel like we’re hurting Lune and I want… I just want to get back in that house.” 

“I’ll watch the three of them. If it gets too late I can feed Luna dinner, alright? Don’t worry about it, Lou. Do what you have to do.” 

 

Louis’ more nervous than ever when he pulls back up in front of the house. He feels like everything is riding on this, and he doesn’t like the way it feels. Louis locks the nervous feeling away and goes up to the door with his head held high. He rings the doorbell, and in reply gets Harry calling that the door is open from somewhere within the house. 

He drops his keys on the table by the door, like he always used to, takes his shoes off, and treks to the living room, where Harry’s sat on the couch with a bottle of wine on the coffee table and a bag of crisps next to him. 

“This is what you do when Lune and I are gone?” Louis asks teasingly. 

“Yeah, most of the time. D’you want a beer?” he asks, looking up at Louis expectantly. 

Louis shakes his head. He’s lingering awkwardly in the middle of the living room, but no matter how much he tells himself to stop being so awkward, he just can’t. “No, thanks. I have to pick Luna up from Lottie’s at some point.” 

“You can sit down.” Harry tells him. “What do you wanna ask me about, or whatever?” 

Louis finally sits down on the couch, as far away from Harry as he can because he’s not sure where the boundaries lie and he doesn’t want to tempt himself. He has a habit of always wanting to  _ touch  _ whenever he’s close to Harry and he can’t do that right now. 

“Haz, I wanna come home,” Louis says simply. Straight and to the point. He wants to come home. “I know you’re mad at me. I know you hate me because I smoke too much and I work too much and I’m a shit dad, I know. I know I pushed you to your breaking point and I want nothing more than to make it better. I’m in love with you, I always will be. We have a daughter, H. I can’t keep doing this to you and Lune.” 

“Fine.” Harry says simply, shrugging. “Y’can sleep in the guest room. Luna needs the old routine back, anyhow.” 

“That’s… that’s it?” 

“I’m still mad as all  _ fuck  _ at you, Louis. But I can’t ice you out of your own house. I don’t care if you come home, but I still… I can’t with you, Lou.” 

Louis feels glad and disgusted at the same time; glad because Harry’s letting him come back home, disgusted because Harry’s still disgusted with  _ Louis.  _ “You don’t even have to  _ talk  _ to me. You won’t even know that I’m here, H.” he says, despite how gross saying that makes him feel. 

 

**_and no, you’re not the only reason  
_ ** **_i came home. but maybe it’s the  
_ ** **_seasons, i don’t know. and maybe it’s  
_ ** ****_because i’m on my own_

 

There’s one thing Louis Tomlinson hates about his house. He loves it; himself and Harry picked it out and signed the contracts and did kitchen renovations and did it all  _ together _ . There’s not a single aspect Louis Tomlinson doesn’t love. Except for how fucking  _ silent  _ the house is when nobody’s in it. 

Harry’d taken Luna to pick up “last minute Christmas gifts” and told her that Louis needed to do work–which is a  _ lie _ , Louis actually has nothing to do tonight. He specifically did everything he could before leaving the office and came home  _ early _ , only to have Harry bring Luna out shopping and to dinner. 

So the house is quiet, Louis has absolutely nothing to do, and he still doesn’t think he’ll get his husband back. He did get one thing, though: he got to come home, which is a real weight off Louis’ chest. It took less than a day to move what little stuff had brought with him to the flat. He also doesn’t have to pay for  _ two  _ homes, which is the true relief, if he can't find any other silver lining. 

He sits on the couch and turns on the TV, but finds absolutely nothing on that he’s interested in watching. He could do work – because there’s always something to do on that front – but with his luck Harry would come home right as he’s on the phone with a big client and he’d be right back out to the curb. Louis finds himself standing in the middle of the kitchen, two wine glasses on the island, staring at him. He wishes he could storm up some grand romantic gesture, something Harry would definitely swoon for (he’s a sucker for romanticism) but Louis’ afraid that he won’t get any reaction. For once in his gloriously long relationship with Harry, Harry will have no reaction to whatever grand gesture Louis concocts. 

Harry’s far too angry. He’s here, but not  _ here.  _ Louis couldn’t touch him if he wanted to (and, shit, does he  _ want _ ), despite being so fucking close. 

Luna and Harry get home while Louis’ still staring at the wine glasses. It’s just after six. They have takeaway containers with them, remnants from the nice dinner they’d had together. 

“What’d you get, Lune?” Louis asks, attempting to shake off the moment of existentialism and hatred for his own existence that just washed over him. 

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you ‘till Christmas.” 

“Oh, really? I couldn’t even… tickle it out of you?” he asks challengingly, arching an eyebrow.

Luna shrieks like Louis’ actually going to come at her. He could, but the way Harry’s looking at him has Louis not moving a single muscle in his body. “You gotta take a shower, Lune,” Louis tells her instead, hoping that he’s picking up what Harry’s putting down. 

Luna groans, but treks upstairs nonetheless. She made Harry and Louis stop helping her with baths and moved straight to independent showers because “boys have cooties” and “daddy can’t see me naked”. What can he say, she’s advanced. 

She leaves Harry and Louis standing in the middle of the kitchen, silent. Harry’s staring at the wine glasses on the counter. “I’m beginning to think the glasses can talk to me,” Louis attempts to make a joke, but he gets absolutely no reaction out of Harry. The air hangs heavy. 

“If you could pour me some, that’d be great,” Harry says softly, still not even  _ looking  _ at Louis. 

“Of course, ba-Harry.” The instinct to call Harry by a nickname is right there, it’s easy. He’s called Harry nicknames ever since the day they met. They range from fond and meaningful to stupid (but still fond). 

He pours wine into both glasses as they finally hear the shower go on upstairs. Harry sits down at the island across from Louis and  _ staring  _ at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Harry shrugs. “It’s just weird having you around here again.” 

“I mean, it’s been a full forty eight hours. I didn’t think I caused  _ that  _ much of a difference around here,” Louis says jokingly. It’s slightly self-deprecating; saying that he doesn’t have that big of an impact here, and Harry definitely picks up on it.

He frowns disapprovingly, but he doesn’t justify Louis’ feeling or make him feel any better about it. Harry, in fact, doesn’t say a word in reply to Louis. He sits there and drinks his wine. And stares. At Louis. Louis tries to pretend that Harry’s not still looking at him, but it doesn’t work very well. Harry’s being obvious, and he’s  _ smiling  _ as he watches Louis do absolutely nothing. Louis wants to kiss him, if things were normal and Harry were looking at him like that, Louis would kiss him. 

He doesn’t even touch his glass. He can’t take a single sip because he feels like Harry’s being critical of his every move. He feels like if he picks up the wine glass, Harry will immediately hound him about something. 

“You’re not drinking,” Harry points out after he finishes his own glass. He reaches for the bottle, but Louis just pushes his own glass towards Harry instead. “Why aren’t you drinking?” 

“I wanna put Lune to bed once she’s done with her shower,” Louis replies simply, shrugging. “And I don’t feel like drinking, for once. Are you gonna complain?” 

Harry stares blankly at him. “No, I’m not complaining. I was… just curious.” 

Louis nods slowly, forcing himself to break eye contact. He then forces himself to leave the kitchen, go upstairs and see if Luna’s out of the shower yet. She’s not, so he sits on her bed until he hears the shower go off. He meets her in the hallway, her hair precariously wrapped in a towel and her robe across her. “Hi, bug. How was your shower?” 

“Fine,” she says simply, tracking right past him on her way into her bedroom. “Are you going to tuck me in tonight?” 

Louis goes to follow her into the room, but Luna promptly shuts the door in his face. He stares at the closed door and tries to push away the thought that it’s just another door closed in his face in this house, only this time it’s a physical one. “Um. Yeah, I can-I  _ am _ . Is that alright?” 

Luna doesn’t answer for a moment. Louis thinks maybe she won’t, she’ll just ignore his question. He can’t say he’d be surprised. Finally, she says, “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow are we going to decorate the Christmas tree? We’re really far behind on that this year.” 

“Yeah, love. Tomorrow we can decorate the tree, long as your dad says that’s okay.”

“ _ You’re  _ my dad too,” she points out, finally swinging the door open again. Sometimes she doesn’t  _ act  _ like she’s five. It’s scary. “Why can’t you decide if we can decorate the tree?” 

She’s giving Louis an intimidating look, for a five year old, one that she only could have got from Harry himself. “I suppose I can, Luna. You’re very hard-hitting tonight, hm?” 

Luna grabs her favorite stuffed animal and lays down, looking up at Louis expectantly. “No, I’m just Luna,” she says simply, grinning. 

“Just Luna, eh?” Louis laughs, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Tomorrow we’ll decorate the tree, I promise.” 

She turns her cheek for a kiss, then the other. Louis tucks her in down to her toes and kisses her forehead before whispering his goodnight. 

When Louis makes it downstairs again, Harry’s in the corner of their sectional sofa with the bottle of wine on the table next to a bottle of beer, a wine glass in his hand, and the pretzels in his lap. “Come sit down,” he says, waving Louis over. 

“What’re you doing?” Louis asks, cautious in his movements as he picks up the beer and sits a safe distance away from Harry. 

Harry shrugs, continuing to flip through the TV channels, not even looking at Louis. “Just want you to sit here. I’m not gonna lie, I don’t mind having you around. I still hate you, and you know why I do, but it’s okay having you back.” 

_ It’s okay.  _ Except it’s not okay. Nothing about this is  _ okay,  _ Louis keeps on reminding himself. “Oh,” is all he says aloud to Harry. 

They don’t touch, they don’t even speak; Harry just controls what they watch on TV and Louis drinks his beer and pours Harry more wine when his glass gets empty. Louis wants nothing more than to close the gap between them, to fix what he broke, but knows that Harry doesn’t want – or just isn’t ready – for that to happen. 

 

**_last year you took a piece of my heart  
_ ** **_this year i guess it’s falling apart  
_ ** **_everyone’s hoping for snow  
_ ** ****_but i’m just hoping that you come home._

 

Luna sits on the couch and watches as Louis and Harry put most of the Christmas decorations on the tree. She argues that she’s too small, she’s too tired, she doesn’t know where to put them. So she sits on the sofa and sings along to the Christmas songs and  _ directs  _ her fathers as to where to put the decorations. If Louis didn’t think she was their daughter before, he definitely thinks it now. 

“She’s just like you,” Harry says under his breath, reaching across Louis to put the macaroni wreath on one of the stronger branches. 

“Are you kidding? This is  _ all you.”  _ Louis tells him, looking over his shoulder at Luna, who’s sat with her arms crossed, staring at the tree. “The stubbornness? The refusal to participate due to a whole slew of premeditated reasons? But the fact that she’s still controlling what we’re doing?” 

“Are you saying I’m controlling?” Harry quirks an eyebrow challengingly. 

“I’m saying that you’re stubborn, and persistent, and you like when things go your way. I’m not saying it like it’s a bad thing.... not all the time, anyway.” Louis smirks, knowing that he’s teasing and knowing that it’s going to drive Harry  _ nuts  _ but unable to stop due to the fact that this feels  _ normal.  _ Louis came home at a  _ normal  _ time, they had a  _ normal  _ family dinner, they’re acting  _ normal.  _

“Not all the time? You like walking the wire, don’t you?” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “Lune, come here so I can lift you up to put the star on.” 

She shrieks when Harry puts her above his head so she can reach the top of the tree and balance the star. He pretends to drop her, but really only drops her into Louis’ arms for a visit from the tickle monster, until Luna can hardly breathe with how hard she’s laughing. 

After the tree is decorated, Harry makes popcorn while Louis and Luna pick the next Christmas movie to watch (this time it’s  _ Home Alone _ ). Luna cuddles up to Harry on the couch, at no shock to Louis. 

Louis feels like a stranger in his own home, again, as he sits a safe distance from his  _ husband  _ and  _ daughter  _ and watches the film. Except. He’s watching them more than he’s watching the movie. Luna looks just like Harry, even though they share no DNA, she’s still got a curly head of hair and she laughs at all the same parts of the movie he does. Harry looks like Harry, everything Louis fell in love with oh-so long ago, and still loves now even though it might not be as attainable. It’s killing Louis, to have Harry so fucking close, but not be there at all. 

Luna falls asleep before the movie even ends, Louis notices before Harry even does. “H,” he whispers, already standing up. 

Louis has to fight the urge to start laughing out loud when he sees that Harry’s asleep as well. He moves the bowl of popcorn from Harry’s lap and scoops Luna up. “Where’re we going?” she asks sleepily, burying her face in Louis’ shoulder. 

“To bed, love. I’ll tuck you in.” 

He does as promised, leaving her door open a crack before heading back downstairs. The movie finishes out, Louis only half-paying attention, and Harry stays knocked out. When the movie’s finally over, Louis turns the TV off and grabs the blanket from the top of the couch. He drapes it over Harry and kisses him on the forehead after a moment’s hesitation. 

Louis gets ready for bed by himself, lays down in the guest room by himself, falls asleep, by himself. He’s jolted awake by one of those free-falling sensations, only to find that when his leg kicks out, it’s kicking another body. 

“Lune,” he groans, not opening his eyes or picking up his head. “What’s the matter, bug?” 

He doesn’t get a reply, which. Weird. Louis finally opens his eyes, first seeing the alarm clock on his nightstand. It’s two in the  _ fucking  _ morning. He looks to his right, nearly jumping clean out of the bed when Harry’s the one laying next to him. 

“Harry,” he whispers, nudging Harry’s leg with his foot. “H. Haz. Wake up.” 

“Louis, shut up,” Harry groans, pulling the blanket up over his head. “Just let me fucking sleep here.” 

“Why… why’re you in my bed?” 

“Because I didn’t want to go all the way down the hall to my bed. Are you gonna shut the fuck up?” 

Louis swallows hard, rolls back over, faces away from Harry. 

 

He wakes up at the crack of fucking dawn, barely three hours after he’d woken up to Harry in his bed. Luna is still very much asleep, as is Harry, still in the guest bedroom with Louis. Harry doesn’t move when Louis gets up. When he comes back from taking a shower, Harry’s still passed out. He doesn’t even stir, so Louis leaves him be. 

Louis heads downstairs and makes himself a cuppa before starting to straighten up the living room. He doesn’t have to go to work for another two hours, so he might as well make the most of it. The wine and beer and snacks are all still out from last night, so is the blanket he’d covered Harry with, so he cleans all of that up before Harry even comes downstairs. 

“I came into your bed last night,” Harry says, looking sheepish. He’s standing in the doorway of the kitchen like he’s some shameful fucking one night stand, Louis’ heart breaks at the awkwardness. 

“Yeah, you did. I thought you were Lune.” 

“You should’ve woken me up from the couch. I dunno why I came into the guest room. I slept really fucking well, though,” he admits, leaning against the counter. Louis nods, pouring Harry a cuppa without him even having to ask. “Do you have to work today?” 

Louis nods. “Today, Friday, and Saturday. Then I’m supposed to be off until after New Years.” 

“D’you… I know this is gonna be a lot to ask, and you’re probably going to hate me for asking, but do you think you could try to get off? Those three days.” 

Louis sighs. “I’ve been a pain in their ass already, H, I dunno–“

“I know! I know you have and I’m so, so appreciative of how much you put your arse on the line!” Harry says quickly, putting his mug down on the counter. “But I just… Luna’s going to be at Gabby’s house today and we could get her out tomorrow too and that’s just two days.”

“Two days?” Louis quirks an eyebrow. 

“That you could be home and we could try to  _ fix  _ this, Louis.” 

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Louis is definitely going to bust his arse even more if it means that’s what he’s doing it for. “I… I can see what I can do, H. I’ll go in today and talk to ‘em.” 

Harry nods, exhaling heavily. “Okay, good.” 

 

Louis and Harry are just  _ staring  _ at each other. Louis wishes it was in a different way; like a  _ hot  _ way that they were staring each other down in the middle of the kitchen. Louis got off of work for the rest of the week, Luna’s playing at the next door neighbor’s, and now they’re staring at each other. 

“You kicked me out of the house,” Louis says finally, leaning against the counter. He really didn’t want that to be his opening argument, but it’ll have to be a good enough gateway. 

“You’re the one who left.” Harry replies. “If you fought hard enough, I would’ve let you stay.” 

“H, you were the one who told me to leave!” Louis exclaims, incredulous. “I came home that night and you told me that we needed to take some time apart. And then by the end of the week I was in a fucking flat by myself. And I still can’t, for the life of me, figure out why it had to come to that!” 

Harry opens his mouth, then closes it. Louis half expects him to walk away. Finally, he says, “I just… I couldn’t. I couldn’t be around you and look at you and deal with you. It felt like it was always just  _ me,  _ it was never you.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t get  _ why  _ you felt like that! Yeah, I work a bit much and I know I smoke way too fucking much and some nights I’m not home on time but no matter what I  _ always  _ come through for Luna.” 

“You were late to her recital on Saturday. When she was sick last month, I had to get time off, you didn’t. I was fucking terrified then, Louis. She was  _ so  _ sick and we didn’t know with what, and you weren’t here,” Harry’s eyes are starting to well up with tears and Louis feels his own heart start to break. 

“Tell me what I have to do, H,” Louis begs. “Just tell me what I did and what I have to do.” 

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by the doorbell ringing. “Shit. That’s probably Lune. Can you go make it look like we weren’t just arguing?” 

Louis exhales shakily. The doorbell is rung again. Luna’s nothing if not persistent. “Yeah, sure.” 

He heads for the front door, where Luna is standing. “What’re you doing back, little miss?” he asks, shutting the door behind her. 

“We were playing outside but it’s cold and Gabby had to have lunch, anyway. And I want lunch. With both of you, since you’re both here.” 

“What do you want for lunch, Lune?” Harry calls from the kitchen. Luna plops down on the ground, taking her boots off, and contemplates. “Soup? Grilled cheese?” 

“Grilled cheese.” Luna replies, standing up and grabbing Louis’ hand, dragging him with her to the kitchen island. 

Luna doesn’t seem to have a clue as to the tension that’s hanging in the air between Harry and Louis. Louis’ grateful; but that doesn’t mean Luna hasn’t picked up on it in the past, or that she won’t  _ continue  _ to pick up on it. She knows that something odd is happening, but all she does is ask why Harry’s sad or why sometimes her dads don’t talk to each other the way that they used to. She’s observant, of course, Louis would expect nothing less from her. 

Luna talks the entire time they eat, while Louis finds himself distractedly staring at Harry. After lunch, Luna secludes herself in the den and starts to play with her toys, and Louis feels the sudden, overwhelming need to seclude himself as well. “I’m gonna go to my office, see if there’s any work I can find to do,” he says, knowing that it’s a shit excuse and Harry will most definitely give him hell for it. 

Harry stops washing dishes and turns around to look at him. “Work?” he asks. Louis tries to answer, but Harry doesn’t give him the chance. “Okay, Louis.” 

 

**_last year, we stole a dance in the dark  
_ ** **_this year, we’re just a thought from afar  
_ ** **_everyone’s hoping for snow  
_ ** ****_but i’m just hoping that you might make it home_

 

Louis wakes up the next morning at a quarter past nine, to the house absolutely silent. He thinks for a moment that Harry might have taken Luna out, but that thought is squashed when he leaves the guest bedroom and catches a glimpse of Harry still in bed. 

He quickly works to locate Luna, finding her downstairs watching TV. “What are you doing, bug?” 

“Watchin’ TV,” she replies simply. “You and daddy were still sleeping. Still not in the same bed, that’s not helpful for me.”

Louis frowns, feels his heart sink just a bit more. “I know, Lune, I’m sorry. You could’ve woken one of us up, though. You’ve gotta eat breakfast.” 

She shrugs. “I’m not hungry, it’s okay. Daddy said that he didn’t feel good.” 

“What? When’d he say that, love?” Louis drops down on the couch next to her, letting Luna rest her head on his shoulder comfortably.

“Last night, when he was putting me to bed. I think we should bring him breakfast in bed.” 

“Ah, so you  _ do  _ want breakfast.” 

Luna laughs, shaking her head. “ _ Daddy  _ wants breakfast. Can we make waffles?” 

“We sure can,” Louis nods, standing back up and pulling Luna with him. 

They get to work in the kitchen, making waffles and chocolate milk (at Luna’s insistence), that they bring to Harry on a tray. “Babe, we brought you breakfast,” Louis sings, poking Harry’s arm with the corner of the tray. 

Harry groans in reply, rolling over to his other side. “Don’t let Lune come near me,” he mumbles. 

Louis puts the tray on the bedside table and scoops Luna up in his arms. “What’s wrong, H?” 

“I think m’getting sick, don’t want Luna to get it before Christmas.” 

Louis groans, looking down at Luna. “It’s just you and me today, kid.” 

“I need you to pick up my mum’s Christmas gift. Gemma has it because she ordered it with her account,” Harry says, rolling back over and looking at Louis. “She knew I was coming, but you can just text her yourself.” 

“You… really can’t go?” Louis winces. Luna is starting to squirm in his arms. 

Harry hardens his stare. “No, you’re going.” 

Louis sighs. “Alright. Lune, who’s driving, me or you?” 

Luna giggles, burying her face in her hands. “You!” she exclaims. 

“Lets go see Aunt Gemma!” Louis sings. “We’ll be back soon, baby.” 

Luna requests that they listen to Katy Perry on the car ride there, which Louis would genuinely rather die than do, but he has to give in because it’s Luna and Louis could never tell her no. 

Gemma rips into him the second she gets the chance, after Luna’s run into the house to see the dog. “I hear you’re back at home now,” she says, looking at him carefully. “What caused that change in plans?”

Louis shrugs, slamming the trunk closed (Harry got Anne a record player, one that Luna absolutely cannot get her hands on). “We just talked, like normal people.” 

“Okay, but you’re not normal people.” 

“What the fuck’s that mean?” Louis laughs, crossing his arms over his chest in a 

half-hearted attempt to conserve body heat.  

“You and Harry aren’t normal people,” she says again, shrugging like it’s something simple that Louis should understand in a heartbeat. “You guys fell in love when you were young, you got married when you were young, you got Luna when you were young. Your life isn’t a normal life; Harry’s released a fucking  _ album  _ and now he works at the record label, you run PR campaigns for high-profile people. You’re only turning twenty eight, Louis, and you already have all this. You and Harry don’t do family like normal people, don’t do life like normal people, and you certainly don’t fight like normal people.” 

Louis is silent for a moment, mulling over what she said. “You had that speech locked and loaded, didn’t you?” 

“Look, all I’m saying is that you’re not going to solve this the normal people way, whatever that means. You and Harry aren’t normal people; you’ve been in love since you knew how to drive and normal things have never worked for you.” 

“So, like… what am I supposed to  _ do.  _ Since we’re not normal people I guess buying flowers and chocolate won’t work?” He’s only half kidding, but Gemma looks at him seriously. 

“I don’t know, Louis. Figure it out.” 

Louis sighs, nodding. “We should get going. Can you send Lune out?” 

Gemma nods. “I’ll get her. Thanks for getting that, tell H I hope he feels better.” 

Luna comes running out just a few minutes later, after Louis’ started warming the car up again. “Daddy, I think we should get a puppy,” she says thoughtfully, buckling herself in and looking up at Louis in the front seat expectantly. 

“Oh, you think so?” 

She nods matter-of-factly. “Yeah, I think it would be good for us. We can get a dog and everything will always be okay.” 

_ If only it were that easy, kid.  _ “Maybe. We’ll see, Luna. You’d have to convince your dad.” 

That would not be difficult, not in any way. If Luna is serious about this and brings it up with Harry, Harry will agree easily. They’ll have a puppy before February. Luna will bring the puppy up to Harry, mentioning wanting it from Santa or just wanting it in general, and then Harry and Louis will have a discussion and they’ll be agreeing to look into getting a dog. Luna’s got them wrapped around her finger so well it’s a bit of a science. 

When they get home, Harry’s in the kitchen, over the stove. It smells like sauce, which means Harry’s making lasagna for Christmas Eve, which is probably something that he should not be doing if he’s sick. “Go on and play, Lune,” Louis tells her, hanging up her jacket for her. Luna doesn’t need to be told twice before running off into the living room. 

“What’re you doing, H?” He asks, leaning against the island. 

“Making lasangna, it’s got to be done.” Harry replies, turning around to face him. “Did you get the record player from Gem?” 

“Oh, nah. Just took Luna out and drove around for a little bit. Let her do donuts, let her control the radio,” Louis says casually, pushing himself up on the counter. Harry rolls his eyes and looks at Louis expectantly. “I’m kidding, obviously. The record player is in the trunk. Now, why’re you making lasanga? I thought you didn’t feel well?” 

“Like I said, someone has to do it. You’re not capable of making lasagna,” Harry says. “I don’t feel as shitty as I did before anyway, so.” 

Louis laughs, nodding. “Alright, sounds good. And, by the way, I can make lasagne if I had to. You underestimate me, Styles.” 

“Tomlinson,” Harry whispers, looking back at the stove. “And I’m not underestimating you, Tomlinson. But I do know that you’re shit at cooking complex meals like this. I know you, Louis, and you’d have no fun making lasagna because you wouldn’t know how.” 

Louis’ glad Harry’s not looking at him, because that means he can’t see the dumbass grin that spreads across his face. Hearing Harry correct him to  _ Tomlinson  _ makes Louis feel like there’s progress being made and he doesn’t want to ever let that feeling go. “I suppose you’re right.” 

 

**_i catch a breath, it chills my lungs  
_ ** **_it takes me back to when we were young  
_ ** ****_i always seem to get lost in the past_

 

Louis comes down from his office at half past nine, after staring at his laptop just waiting to see if an urgent email would come in because that  _ would  _ happen. Nothing comes, so he takes his glass of wine and treks down the hallway in his socks to the living room. He stops short when he hears gentle guitar chords from the living room. He doesn’t go in, just stands in the entryway and watches Harry; he’s sat on the floor with a wine glass and his song book and guitar, humming quietly to himself. 

Harry hasn’t written anything – as far as Louis knows – since he came home from his small stint of gigs around the UK and US. That was two years ago; Harry put a halt on everything after they lost Jay and Robin. He hasn’t so much as picked up an instrument or wrote a lyric since then. Seeing Harry with the guitar again makes Louis feel scared and overwhelmed and  _ proud,  _ he almost doesn’t want to step into the room and break Harry’s little bubble. 

He forces himself to, though, wanting to share in this moment with Harry – whatever it may be – more than anything else. “Hey, H,” he says softly, sitting down on the floor across from Harry. 

Harry looks up, then quickly looks down again. “Luna still asleep?” he asks, crossing something out in the notebook. 

“Yeah, she’s out. What’re you doing?” 

Harry shrugs, positioning his hand on the neck of the guitar again. “Trying to write something, I guess. I just felt like I had to. So I drank some wine and just started strumming.” 

“You’re wine-drunk, then.” Louis laughs, grabbing the bottle from the table and pouring himself more. “This is all you drink, isn’t it?” 

“No, it’s just my drink of choice. We have it, Lune’s asleep, I’m allowed to drink it. Why not?” he shrugs again. “You’re disrupting my train of thought, please be quieter.” 

Louis rolls his eyes and settles his back against the couch, just watching Harry play, this time up close. He’s so fucking close, he could reach out and touch Harry easily. Louis’ in a constant state of limbo; always close enough to touch him, take what he wants, but not being able to do it. Harry stops playing every so often to scribble a new word down on the paper. Louis almost asks if he can see or maybe even  _ hear,  _ but he’s too afraid that there’s a line that would cross. 

This feels awkward and familiar all at the same time. Awkward because Harry still has yet to fully let him in. Familiar because this is what they used to do; they had so many late nights sprawled across floors writing songs together, songs that Harry would go on to put on his  _ album,  _ songs about them that he would go on to  _ perform  _ in front of other people. 

“D’you think you’ll ever put out more music?” Louis asks suddenly, despite the fact that Harry told him to shut up mere minutes ago. 

“I don’t know. I, like, I loved what I did. I was proud and I was happy and it was fun. But I don’t know if I could keep doing it, especially not with Luna. I don’t want something like that, something temporary that fizzles out after awhile. I still love writing and singing and I’m so, so glad I got to put that one album out and do that one tour. But… I kinda want to be home, you know?” 

“You’d keep working at the label?” 

“Ideally, yeah. They hate me a bit, I haven’t written anything good in  _ forever.  _ But it is what it is, I guess.” 

Louis doesn’t know what to say in reply, so he doesn’t say anything. Harry’s still staring at him, though, but Louis doesn’t know what to  _ say.  _ They stare at each other, Louis tries to pretend that he’s not absolutely bursting at the seams wanting to say things to Harry, and then Harry looks away. 

“Writing about you,” Harry murmurs. Louis isn’t sure he hears him right, goes to ask him to repeat, but Harry keeps talking. “This song, it’s about you.” 

“Oh. Can I hear it? Or see it, if y’don’t want to play it.” 

Harry shrugs and spins the notebook toward Louis. He doesn’t make eye contact, he doesn’t even say anything, while Louis picks up the notebook and starts reading. The lyrics are written in Harry’s scratchy handwriting, heartfelt and to the point. 

“We’re not who we used to be,” Louis says softly, dropping the notebook back on the ground. “When’d you write this, H?” 

“Words from the chorus has been in every single dream I’ve had for the past month. I don’t really know what made me want to get out the guitar again,” he says simply, picking up his glass and finishing it. Louis reaches for the bottle and pours him more without Harry having to ask. “I’m gonna keep trying to write. I don’t mind if you sit there and fuck around.” 

Louis doesn’t move, especially since Harry’s given his blessing to stay. Louis’ never leaving, never choosing an option different than  _ stay  _ for the rest of his life. Louis stretches his legs out, making himself as comfortable as he can on the floor across from Harry. He just  _ watches,  _ watches as Harry’s fingers move across the guitar like it’s second nature, watches Harry’s soft lips move silently as he writes lyrics. 

“D’you remember when we met?” Harry asks suddenly, not even looking up from the guitar. 

That’s a random question, Louis thinks, but he nods nonetheless. “Of course. I was at the label consulting on a new artist. You were there working your shitty secretary job. Gave me a hard time at the front desk.” 

“I thought you were too young to be working with the PR company,” Harry admits, still not looking up. 

“I was nineteen, it was just an internship. You were super fucking young to be working the front desk at a record label,” Louis laughs. “I told you that and you got all flustered, telling me how your uncle worked at the label and got you one foot in the door. You walked me back to the conference room because you knew the building like the back of your hand, and you kept looking over at me like you were expecting me to not be following you.” 

“I kind of did think you’d run off,” he finally looks up and makes eye contact. 

Louis shrugs. “You were wearing the Rolling Stones tee shirt with this stupid black blazer-thing over it and I figured it was your school uniform or something. You had on jeans, but they weren’t, like,  _ super  _ skinny jeans, like you started wearing after I knew you. And I was staring at you while we were walking, and you caught me, and you said  _ I don’t know how you do things where you’re from, Mister Tomlinson, but staring is typically considered rude.”  _

Harry’s expression softens exponentially. “You remember that?” he asks softly, posture suddenly becoming more rigid. “You remember the shit I said to you?” 

“I remember so much shit, H. You would not believe the amount of obscure, probably insignificant things I remember about you - about us.” Louis says honestly. It’s the complete truth; he remembers the smallest details about himself and  _ Harry,  _ mainly Louis’ memory is all just… Harry. 

He remembers meeting Harry for the first time, he remembers asking Harry out for the first time, he remembers pulling Harry in for a first kiss, he remembers how nervous Harry was when Louis brought him home to meet his mum. He remembers the song that was playing on the radio the first time Harry mentioned spending the rest of their lives together (it was Meghan Trainor, not very romantic). He remembers the exact time it was when Louis dropped to one knee and proposed (7:28, they were in a restaurant and Louis had the ring in his pocket and decided he couldn’t wait anymore). 

“What do you remember?” Harry asks aloud, laying the guitar down and looking at Louis carefully. 

Louis doesn’t feel awkward or nervous anymore. Once he opens his mouth and starts talking about  _ Harry,  _ everything feels absolutely fine. Louis’ great at talking, and he’s especially great at talking about Harry. He tells Harry about how he still remembers the words he said when he proposed, that he remembers the song that they slow danced to at Jay’s wedding to Dan, that he remembers what gate they had to go to when they were leaving for their honeymoon and the hassle it took to get them there on time. He remembers what Harry said on their second date that made Louis think that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with that boy (“I wanna do big things, see the world, but I wanna have a family and a  _ life _ , too. I’ve gotta find a balance, I guess”). 

Louis stops talking when he finally feels he’s run out of things to say. Harry just stares at him, cheeks a little pink with the wine he’s been drinking and eyes filled with complete awe. 

“I’m really sorry I made you leave, Louis,” Harry says softly. “I feel like shit about it. I never should’ve done it. I thought it was right at the time and I–“

“ _ Thought.  _ So now you think it’s wrong?” 

Harry shrugs. Louis wants nothing more than to take the indifference and uncertainty out of every single conversation they have. “I just… I don’t wanna do this shit without you. I’ve missed sitting on the living room floor and getting drunk and writing songs.” 

“That whole having kids thing really threw a wrench in things, didn’t it?” Louis asks jokingly, earning a smack on the leg from Harry. 

“Oh, shut up,” Harry laughs, leaning back against the couch, guitar and songs completely abandoned. They’re silent again, until Harry says, “We should probably get to bed.” 

Louis can feel that his welcome has been worn out, and nods in agreement. Harry doesn’t move, so Louis forces himself to be the one to leave first. “I’ll see you in the morning, H.” 

 

**_as i let go, i breathe you out  
_ ** **_before my eyes you form a cloud  
_ ** **_and disappear and you stick  
_ ** ****_to the glass._

 

Louis finds himself sitting at the dining room table, staring at Harry and Luna as they make breakfast. The radio is playing softly, Harry and Luna singing right along with it, hardly even giving Louis the time of day from his seat at the table. His and Harry’s relationship is nowhere near what it should be; they’re cold to each other in the light of day, yet warm and open at night. Louis’ wondering if maybe Harry’s scared (he used to only make moves on Louis in public when it was dark and no one else could see them) or maybe he’s just working one step at a time. They’ll go from being themselves only after Luna’s gone to bed to finally being what they used to be (although Harry said it himself last night: they’re not what they used to be). Louis’ beginning to feel a little sick. 

He just wants to hold Harry again, wants to touch him and kiss him the way that they used to. He remembers the last time Harry’s lips braced his own: the morning Louis walked out the door for work. That night they fought and Louis left. The last time they  _ really  _ kissed, Louis remembers but only vaguely; it was over a week before Louis actually left. That means it’s been months since they’ve fucked. Louis’ barely even got off (he still hasn’t told Harry this; he doesn’t want to scare his boy off), and he’s just missing Harry in more ways than one, okay? 

“Papa!” Luna’s exclaiming suddenly, looking at Louis expectantly. “Do you think it’s going to snow?” 

Louis gives her question some hard thought, rubbing his chin. He stands up, sliding playfully in his socks across the floor to the front door. He sticks his head out the door and licks his finger, making a show of testing the air. “Snow seems imminent, young one,” he concludes, shutting the door again. 

“How do you  _ know?”  _ she exasperates, looking at her father with wide eyes. 

Louis’ eyes flit to Harry briefly, who has a small smile on his face. “It feels like snow outside, Luna. Are you telling me you don’t feel it?” 

Luna shrugs. Louis’ quite honestly shit at predicting the weather. He’s shit at predicting a lot of things. But he read a weather report late last night and experts are predicting snow come Christmas Eve - which is tomorrow. Luna doesn’t need to know that Louis’ not some all-knowing, extraordinary weatherman. 

“Can you feel the snow, daddy?” she asks, looking over at Harry. 

“No, I think that's something only papa is good at,” Harry admits. He glances at Louis, a big grin on his face. Louis hasn’t seen him smile like that in a long time, and it feels like the sun finally shining after a long, long time without it. 

By the time breakfast is on the table, Louis is hardly hungry anymore. He’s filled himself up on overthinking and sadness just this morning alone. Luna and Harry made waffles, their specialty and Luna’s absolute favorite breakfast food. 

“We have that party tonight,” Harry says suddenly, long after Luna has left the table and the pair had just been sitting there in silence. “With the label.” 

“We have  _ what?”  _ Louis’ eyes go wide as he looks at Harry across the table. 

“The stupid holiday mixer that’s supposed to make me want to write another album and tour again and that’s the only reason that they invited me,” Harry rambles. “Ah,  _ shit.”  _

Louis fights the urge to bang his head against the dining table. “If that’s the only reason they want you there then just don’t go,” Louis shrugs. 

Harry rolls his eyes because of  _ course  _ Louis would try to get out of it that easily, even though Louis knows very well that this is an entire family affair that no one is getting out of. “We’re not getting out of this, Lou,” he says disapprovingly. “I’m supposed to be there around five. You and Lune can come around seven? But I don’t want her to be there too late.” 

“I can’t wait to go!” Louis says cheerily. 

“Where are we going?” Luna yells from the living room. 

“A party!” Harry replies. 

 

********

 

Louis’ going to put his head through the wall. He absolutely hates these things. These mixers where he has to pretend he absolutely adores everyone in the room, he has to pretend that him and Harry are  _ fine,  _ he has to pretend he knows what the old white man in the suit is talking about - and worse yet, he has to pretend to agree with everything anyone says. 

He lost Harry and Luna ages ago. Everyone loves Luna whenever she accompanies Harry and Louis anywhere; whether it be meetings or work or the store. Everyone always loves her (Louis really can’t blame them). James Corden finds him, whom Harry is very fond of, gives Louis a drink and strikes up a conversation. 

“The kid’s causing a damn scene over there,” James notes, looking over toward the bar. 

“Which one?” 

“Oh, both of them,” he laughs. “Harry’s probably too intoxicated to keep track of Luna, but everyone else absolutely loves her, so he hasn’t got to do much.” 

“Should probably go get him.” Louis says thoughtfully. Harry gets loud when he’s drunk, but despite his state he could never forget about Luna, Louis knows this for sure. That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t save Harry from whatever embarrassment he has the potential to put himself through. 

Louis parts ways with James and makes his way to Harry, who’s standing with Luna on his hip and talking to someone Louis doesn’t recognize. He jumps in mid-conversation, overhearing things about Harry’s music that he doesn’t really understand and that Harry doesn’t seem to be that interested in. 

“Hey, love,” he murmurs, sliding up close to Harry. Because they’re in public, everyone thinks they’re fine, so Louis gets to act like it for the time being. Harry leans into him, not taking his eyes off Luna. “You almost ready to go?” 

Harry nods. “We should get Lune home. Way past her bedtime.” 

“You wanna start your goodbye rounds? I’ll bring Luna out to the car, we can leave in the same car?” 

“Mhm.” Harry hums. “I can say my goodbyes. Lune is talking to Clare. She loves kids. Loves Lune, too.” 

“Don’t know how anyone couldn’t. I’ll get her out to the car.” 

Harry exhales heavily, looking over at Louis. Louis can smell whatever he’s been drinking on his breath and while he’s not unruly, Louis knows that he’s just holding himself together for the sake of his public image. 

Louis is proven right when, long after he’s got Luna in the car (she’s so tired she’s almost asleep already), Harry throws himself into the passenger seat. “Feel like my head’s spinning,” Harry murmurs, resting his head in his hands. “I’m not gonna lie, I might puke all over our front seat and I’m so sorry for whatever that does to Lune.” 

Louis laughs, starting the car. “You’re fine, H. I think she’s almost asleep anyway.” 

“I’m too old for this.” Harry says, moving slowly to buckle his seatbelt. He rests his head on the window once he’s done, waiting for Louis to start driving. 

“Oh, shut up!” Louis laughs, glancing over at him. “You’re not  _ too old  _ for this. You’re not too old for anything. You just haven’t done this in awhile. You’re Harry freakin’ Styles, you could never be too old for anything.” 

Harry sits up. “Harry Tomlinson,” he corrects, looking at Louis. 

Louis swallows hard, nodding. “Right, of course. You gonna be hungover tomorrow when your mum comes over?” 

“Probably. But I’m a grown man and I’m allowed to get drunk, so it doesn’t matter.” Harry says snappily. Louis rolls his eyes. “Y’can get drunk tomorrow, Lou. I’ll babysit you.” 

Louis laughs. “Thanks, babe. That really means a lot.” 

They fall silent, Harry continually cracking his window open and closing it again to get air and shut out the warmth. “I’m gonna come with you and Lune to your family’s house on Christmas Day.” he says suddenly. “I’m going to come because I want to be with you when you go home and I want to be there for Christmas with Luna. I want to spend time with your sisters and do shots with Dan and I don’t want to be torn apart at Christmas too. I still don’t feel right with you but I don’t feel  _ wrong  _ with you.” 

“Just do whatever you think is necessary, H.” Louis says softly, hoping Harry’s too drunk to hear the way his voice cracks and his heart aches. 

Louis carries Luna into the house when they get home, and she doesn’t even stir. She half-consciously gets herself out of her dress and into a nightgown, but knocks out the second Louis lays her down in her bed. He heads back downstairs to find Harry sitting at the island, with his head rested on folded arms. 

Louis laughs at him, making Harry groan. “We should get you in bed, H.” 

“I think if I stand up again, my legs are gonna give out.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re always so dramatic when you’re smashed. C’mon, lets go.” 

 

**_i see you out, out in the street  
_ ** **_and nothing on your face shows  
_ ** **_that you’re missing me.  
_ ** **_and all our friends from way back when  
_ ** **_keep asking me just how you’ve been  
_ ** ****_and how i’ve been and it’s killing me_

 

Anne and Gemma show up before Harry’s even come back downstairs after taking a shower. He woke up absurdly early to start cooking, then took a break once Louis and Luna had woken up to go take a shower.  

“Where’s H?” Gemma asks, shucking her coat off quickly so as to be prepared when Luna comes charging in. They know the routine, Luna’s the same every single time. 

“Still upstairs. I’m ready first, which is no surprise,” he says jokingly. Luna comes charging in a moment later, flinging herself at her aunt Gemma and rattling off all the things she’s asked Santa for. 

While Gemma and Luna head off into the living room, Anne and Louis go to the kitchen so Anne can find a spot in the fridge for the ice cream cake she brought (Luna fucking loves ice cream cake) and see what else Harry’s cooking up. 

“You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” Anne asks, turning around to look at Louis. 

He nods. “Yeah. That’s always… a production, but we’re all going.” 

“Things with Haz going alright?” 

Louis knew she was going to ask, he’d be stupid if he thought he’d get away without hearing anything about it. He shrugs half-heartedly. “We’re in and out. I like to think it’s progressing. I think it is.” 

“He’s been talking to me about it quite a bit. Sounds like he’s finally starting to budge.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Harry and  _ budge  _ in the same sentence should be used lightly.” 

“What’re we talking about?” Harry’s presence is announced by his voice cutting in on the conversation. 

“You, love.” 

Harry scoffs, stepping past Louis to get to the stove. Louis gives him a quick onceover; he’s wearing skinny jeans and some dumb Christmas sweater his mum probably gave him but somehow makes it look good. Louis’ eyes land on Harry’s hands, which have black nail polish coated over his nails. Louis’ heart almost bursts out of his fucking chest. Harry checks on whatever he’s got in the oven before standing up straight again, turning to face his mother and Louis. 

“Saw Lune and Gemma in the living room. Gem’s already wrapped up in something massive,” Harry says. Louis can tell that he’s mainly talking to his mother. 

Anne laughs. Her eyes dart between the doorway, Louis, and Harry, and she starts to walk away. “I’ll go see if I can save her, then.” 

She leaves Harry and Louis standing alone in the kitchen, smelling like food and Christmas and distance. “You were talking about me, huh?” Harry asks softly. 

Louis totally deflects, he  _ knows  _ he’s deflecting when he says, “you painted your nails? That why you took so long up there?” 

Harry bites his lip, looking down at his hands. “Yeah. Why, does it look bad?” he asks, turning to look at Louis. 

It could never look bad, nothing Harry does will ever look bad, Louis thinks to himself, leaning against the countertop. “No, course not, H. Looks great. I’m…” he trails off, sighing. 

“You’re what?” Harry’s voice is still so quiet, so gentle, Louis’ going to melt. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

“Fuck.” Harry murmurs. Louis starts to wonder what his problem is, even debates asking, but Harry doesn’t give him much time to do that. He’s on Louis in an instant, warm lips capturing Louis’ own in a kiss that Louis has  _ missed.  _

It’s slow but passionate, aggressive but soft, antithesis and everything Harry is and isn’t wrapped into one kiss. Harry’s gripping Louis’ waist and Louis’ hands are going for Harry’s hair and all of the stars are aligning. They’re exploding, they’re burning up and Louis couldn’t be more content with it. 

Harry pulls away finally, breathless as ever. “I’ve wanted that to happen for the longest fucking time,” Louis whispers. “I’m so glad you finally did.”

“Louis?” Harry asks. “You have an erection in the middle of our kitchen on Christmas Eve.” 

“I absolutely do  _ not.  _ And you just kissed me for the first time in  _ months.  _ Sorry.” 

Harry steps back. He’s staring at Louis’ crotch (which is  _ not  _ hard) like he’s never seen this happen before. “What are we supposed to do about it?” 

Louis, normally, would want nothing more than to pull Harry to the bedroom or the laundry room or the  _ bathroom  _ to finish what was just getting started. But he knows they can’t, knows they  _ shouldn’t.  _ “If you stop touching it and looking at it and talking about it, it’ll go away on it’s own,” he replies, rolling his eyes. “God, you act like this has never happened before!’ 

Harry backs a whole foot away when his mum comes into the kitchen unannounced. “What are you to whispering about?” she asks, leaning against the island. “What’ve I got to do to get one of the two of you to offer me a glass of wine?” 

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Harry fumbles around for the bottle of red wine and the wine glasses. Louis watches him attempt to brush off what just happened and hide it from Anne, but with one look at Anne, Louis’ pretty sure she knows. 

“So what’re your plans for tomorrow?” Anne asks, even though Louis strictly remembers having this conversation the second she walked through the door. 

Harry answers this time, assuming the question is up for grabs for either of them. “Going to Ja—Dan’s,” he corrects quickly. “Whole Tomlinson clan’s gonna be there I figure, right?” 

Louis clears his throat, nodding. “Yeah. Nan and Lottie and the boyfriend. The whole lot of ‘em.” 

Anne smiles at Louis, warm and comforting, but Louis has to pretend he doesn't see the sadness (pity) written into it. Any mention - no matter how vague - of Louis’ mother puts a blanket over the room that’s almost impossible to lift. 

 

Christmas Eve is a good one, as far as Christmas Eves go. Luna sings Happy Birthday to Louis (and that’s all the acknowledgement his birthday needs, as far as Louis’ concerned) and opens presents from Anne and Gemma and Anne loves her record player and Luna doesn’t hesitate in telling her that she went with Louis to pick it up. Harry doesn’t act much different with Louis; that meaning he’s no more or no less affectionate than he was with Louis in the time leading up to the kitchen kiss. They don’t talk about it, Anne doesn’t bring up the suspicion that she definitely has. 

Louis drinks a bit too much and is great at hiding it, but Harry still watches him like a hawk, expecting Louis to slip up somewhere. Louis’ an expert in drinking and hiding it. Harry’s an expert in watching Louis (but Louis is also an expert in watching  _ Harry _ ). They’ve got each other figured out. 

That’s why it’s driving Louis nuts, he realizes as he sits on the couch long after Anne and Gemma have left and long after Harry’s taken Luna up to bed and long after Louis’ alcohol has worn off. It drives him nuts that him and Harry have each other down pat, but they still can’t figure  _ this  _ out. 

Harry comes down around ten, showered and ready to be Santa Claus when they decide it’s time. He pulls Louis from his thoughts but also launches him right in. “You remember the car you had when we first met?” Harry asks randomly, sitting down on the floor in front of the Christmas tree.  

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah, that shitty thing got me far, didn’t it?” 

Harry laughs. “That car was a chick magnet, I bet.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “I kissed  _ one  _ girl in that car. Besides, that car got you, did it not? And, you’re the only boy I ever kissed in that car.” 

“Oh, I’m flattered,” Harry says dramatically. “I kinda miss that car.” 

“I kinda miss a lot of things.”  _ The car. The past. Us. My mum. You.  _

Harry smiles sadly. He gets up from his spot on the floor and moves beside Louis, closer than they’ve sat in months. Louis takes a deep breath. “How’re you doing?” 

Louis shrugs. “Days like today are always hard. Tomorrow will be hard. But it’s alright,” he takes another breath, this time shaky. Harry hesitates only briefly before reaching and squeezing Louis’ hand once before drawing away again. 

“I’m glad I have you to go through all this shit with. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Louis tells him boldly, finally looking into Harry’s eyes. 

“Me too, babe. I’m… I’m sorry. For whatever I’ve done to hurt you even more.” 

“Jesus, H. You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I’m the one who works too much and drinks and smokes too much and can’t make it to recitals on time to save my life. I’m why we started crumbling. I’m sorry for hurting  _ you _ , I never want to hurt you. I never want to be distant from you again, it was so fucking miserable.” 

Harry sighs, hair moving the pretty, loose strand of hair falling over his forehead. “I don’t wanna be like that with you again either. God, you moved out. I never want to be that far from you.” 

Louis wants to reply, but his eyes have found Harry’s lips and he’s having a hard time forming sentences. He licks his own lips, finds himself leaning closer. “Kiss me,” Harry whispers hoarsely, like Louis can read his mind (which he most definitely can). “Please, just kiss me.” 

Harry’s begging him, and Louis could never tell him no. He goes in gently, but it’s somehow still absolutely  _ electric.  _ It’s everything Louis has loved and missed and downright craved for the past several months. Harry exhales heavily into it, fingers gripping Louis’ waist and pulling him in closer. It picks up speed, depth, intensity, passion, very quickly. Louis’ barely breathing but this is the one way he absolutely would not mind going out. 

“Mhm.” Harry groans, putting a hand on Louis’ chest and starting to push him away. “We have to do the presents. And we’re not fucking tonight.” 

Louis laughs softly, finally opening his eyes and drawing away far enough to look at Harry. “I never said we were going to fuck tonight,” he says disappointedly. 

“You’re kissin’ me like you never want to stop and when y’kiss me like that.” Harry explains, pinching his bottom lip between his pointer finger and thumb and only making Louis want to kiss him more. 

Louis laughs again, this time at Harry. “You’re talking like you’re drunk, Harry Styles. Are you drunk?” 

Harry rolls his eyes, shoving Louis’ shoulder as he stands up. “Not really, Louis Tomlinson. Are you?” 

“Not anymore. Completely sober, actually. Let’s get this gift-giving going then, shall we?” 

 

**_everyone’s hoping for snow  
_ ** **_but i’m just hoping that you  
_ ** ****_might make it home._

 

When they pull up in front of his old house, Louis and Harry are holding hands. Harry drops Louis’ hand the second Louis puts the car in park. Luna jumps out and runs to the door, through the snow in her nice Christmas dress without waiting for her dads to give her the go ahead. Lottie’s already waiting in the doorway, getting a massive hug from Luna the second she gets the door open. 

“You ready to do this?” Harry asks, hovering his hand over the door handle. 

“This is the third Christmas without her. Never gets easier. But… yeah.” Louis sighs. 

Christmas was always Jay’s favorite holiday; it’s a big Tomlinson production every single year, even with their beloved matriarch gone. Her death absolutely ravaged Louis, it’s something that Harry (and Luna, for that matter) will never be able to forget. She fought hard, but it took a toll on her and on the girls and Dan and on  _ Louis.  _ That was his best friend, he yelled at Harry about it when Harry asked him how he was doing and why he was being so distant with everything. 

This year will be hard. Every single Christmas - every single  _ day  _ will be hard, and Louis’ just beginning to accept this fact. 

They head into the house with gifts in tow. Louis can feel his heart filling up more and more with just a few moments of being in the house. His little sisters are all unconditionally happy, there’s a picture of their mother hanging above the mantle, looking down on them while they open the presents and it almost feels like she’s right there with them. 

 

Louis’ been fiddling with a small box and an envelope for over an hour now. It’s for Harry, he agonized over what to get him because they were on such poor terms for the better half of the year. He settled on a ring, because Harry absolutely adores them, and a letter titled: All The Things I Should’ve Said A Long Ass Time Ago. It’s an apology, it’s a love declaration, it’s a promise. It’s his last-ditch effort. 

Louis finally corners Harry while he’s pouring his next glass of wine in the kitchen. “Been tough to get you alone,” Louis notes, backing Harry against the counter so he can’t move away. 

Harry quirks an eyebrow at him. “You know how your family adores me. Why’re you being weird?” 

“Here,” Louis shoves the box and card into Harry’s hands without warning. He just needs to get this all off his chest and the only way it will go away is if Harry reads the letter and says something. 

“Oh.  _ Oh.  _ I didn’t-um. I didn’t--” 

“It’s okay! I didn’t want anything. You let me come back home and that’s more than enough. I saw this awhile back and I thought of you. And I got you a card. It’s all very from the heart, Hazza, and I’d appreciate it if you took to the time to read it.” 

Harry looks at the box, then up at Louis, then back at the box. “Okay. Go away.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, kissing Harry’s cheek and heading to the living room. He sits on the couch next to Fizzy, who’s scrolling through her phone. “Mum would take your head off if she saw you on your phone on Christmas.” 

Fiz puts her phone down and looks over at him. “You’re one to talk about things mum would take your head off for.” 

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She rolls her eyes. She looks just her mother when she does. “How’re things with Harry?” 

Louis sighs, looking away from his sister and at Luna, who’s playing with one of the toy dolls she got from Lottie and Tommy. “They’re… better. They’re definitely not as bad as they used to be. We’re more normal than we were, like, two days ago, so that’s good.”

Fizzy arches her eyebrows. “What brought about that change?” 

He shrugs his shoulders. A change in heart by Harry, a miracle hail mary attempt by Louis, a little bit of luck. “The spirit of holidays, and all that,” he tells her. “It’s getting better. We’re gonna be alright. I stopped smoking, just went cold turkey a few days ago and it’s driving me  _ nuts - _ like I wanna smoke right now, just talking about it. But I’m doing it for her,” he nods toward Luna, “and for H.” 

“What about the work? That was a big problem, innit?” 

“I took the whole week off. Company probably hates me now, but I did what I had to. For her and for H. It’s… they’re the biggest, most meaningful part of my life. Mum would absolutely hate me if I let Harry get away.”   
Right at the mention of his name, Harry comes through the doorway into the living room. “Lou,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. Louis expects everyone to look up at him, but nobody but Félicité and Louis are looking. 

“I’ll be right back, Fiz,” Louis murmurs, squeezing her knee as he gets up. He steps over Luna and Doris where they’re laying on the floor to get to Harry and drag him into the pantry. 

The second they’re in there, Harry starts crying like Louis’ never really seen him cry before. “Hazza,” is all he can say before Harry’s shaking his head and sniffling. 

“I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry that I kept you out of the house for so long and I’m so sorry I was so against you working. You were only working so much to make sure that if – when – the profits from my album and tour ran out we’d be alright. You… God, you’re like the fucking backbone, Lou. You weren’t there and I know I give you shit for being late or not being able to do Lune’s hair, but I  _ need  _ you there. We balance each other out. You’re the backbone of our family and your family and just… everything. That house was not home without you in it, Lou.” 

Louis takes a deep breath, really not wanting to cry in  _ his mother’s  _ pantry. “I was shit, H. I was being so shitty and my priorities were not at home, I know that and I admit that.” 

Harry reaches and puts a hand on Louis’ cheek, looking at him carefully. “I started writing again, after you’d moved into the flat. This happening with you, like, cracked the seal that went over after we lost Jay and Robin and, I just… I’m sorry.” 

Louis finds himself laughing through his tears, earning a strange look from Harry. “I’m glad I could get you in motion again, I suppose.” 

Louis watches as Harry rolls his eyes, then wipes the tears off his face, then shoots Louis the brightest grin he’s ever seen. “Everything’s about you. About you, by me, for us, for you.” 

“Maybe one day I’ll get to hear them, then?” Louis asks, beginning to back his way out of the pantry. Harry shrugs, crowding Louis against the doorframe. “Maybe one day we’ll write again, like we used to?” 

Harry kisses Louis’ cheek, making him grin. “Perhaps. Maybe one day we’ll have another kid?” 

“You’re taking big steps there, Tomlinson,” Louis teases, jabbing Harry’s sides playfully. 

Harry kisses him on the lips this time, slow and sweet. Louis never wants to leave this bubble; the pantry and the love declarations and the apologies and the  _ moment.  _ This is what he’s agonized over for months, this is all he wanted -- he just wanted  _ Harry  _ back. And now he’s got it. Louis really, really feels like he’s winning. 

“I don’t know if you’ve always done this, but I’m sure mum wouldn’t appreciate you two snogging in her pantry,” Lottie says. Louis draws back and his head hits the wall and Harry laughs. He looks over at Lottie, who’s standing with her hands on her hips, but with an amused look on her face. “God, you’ve got a daughter. You do this around her?” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “We were not snogging, Charlotte. And what we do where is, frankly, none of your business.”

Lottie rolls her eyes the exact same way her brother just had, and motions for them to come out. “Luna’s asking where her dads are. I was sent on the rescue mission.” 

“Yeah, we should probably get back in there,” Harry says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Louis looks up at him in awe, because that’s all he’s ever able to look at Harry in. Awe, wonder, pride, love. 

 

They get right back into the swing of things, celebrating Christmas under the watchful eye of their mother, where she hangs in a portrait above the mantle. They sing songs and play games and Luna hugs both her dads close and tells them how much love she has in her heart for them. Louis will never get used to it, not in a million years. Louis himself has so much love in his own heart for everyone in this room, love he never thought he was going to be able to give nor receive. And although there’s a hole in his heart in the shape of his mother that will never quite be filled again, Louis can feel himself moving on and finding some form of closure. 

Losing Jay tore Louis apart in ways he had no idea he could be ripped open. It affected the way he slept and thought and ate and drank (both water and alcohol). She’d begged Louis not to fall apart, she begged him to stay strong and keep Harry and Luna close but to also let himself  _ grieve.  _ Louis did none of these things, in retrospect. He crumbled the second the machine rang out and he was weak when he delivered her eulogy and he pushed Harry away. 

Christmas and her birthday and his own birthday and Luna’s and Harry’s are all hard. Every single waking second (and even Louis’ dreams) are filled with traces of his mother but he can finally feel himself beginning to move on. 

“Hey,” Harry says, finally moving in on Louis where he’s been sitting on the couch, lost in his thoughts. Harry sets two glasses of wine on the side table and studies Louis carefully. “You doing alright?” 

“Thinking about my mum,” Louis says honestly, looking away from the picture of her on the wall. “I think we’re all gonna be alright.” 

Harry sits next to him, exhaling heavily. “All of us?” he asks, sliding his hand into Louis’. 

“Yup. Dan and the girls, us and Lune… you and I.” 

“I, uh, wanna have another kid, Lou,” Harry admits, looking down at his own painted fingernails entwined with Louis’ plain hand. Louis feels his heart drop in terror but speed up in excitement. “I agree, we’re gonna be okay. And once we are, I want to have another kid. A baby, preferably. One of our own. Adopting Lune was something extremely heartwarming and exciting, but I want to have kids of our own. An infant, one that we’re in the hospital while it’s being born and one that we get to be up all night with and-” 

Louis finally puts a hand on Harry’s cheek and kisses him to shut him  _ up.  _ “We’re going to be okay. And we’re going to get you a baby.” he whispers. 

“What’re we getting?” Luna asks suddenly, jumping up on the couch between her dads. 

“Nothin’ yet, baby. It’ll be really good, though.” Harry promises, pulling her into his lap. 

“One day can you do my nails like yours, daddy? And maybe one day we can do papa’s too?” she asks, grabbing Louis’ hand and looking at it carefully. 

Harry laughs. “I still haven’t been able to convince him to do it, but if anyone can, it’s you, love.” 

Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, looking at their daughter carefully. He glances down at Harry’s hands, still coated in black paint that hasn’t even begun to chip yet. “Y’can do them first thing tomorrow morning, how’s that sound?” 

Luna hums thoughtfully, considering. “How about we do it now? I didn’t get a puppy for Christmas so it’s the  _ least  _ you can do.” 

Harry laughs out loud, throwing his head back and jostling Luna in his lap. “She’s just like you, Lou. Just like you and just like your  _ mum,  _ God.” 

Louis smiles at his daughter, who’s looking at him rather expectantly. “Ask Aunt Lots for nail polish if it’ll make you happy, bug.” 

Luna is up in an instant, searching for Lottie and yelling about nail polish. Harry squeezes Louis’ thigh, looking over at him. “How come it took your daughter two seconds to convince you to paint your nails but whenever I wanted to it took getting you plastered?” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “I didn’t need to get plastered. All you’ve gotta do is bat your eyelashes at me and I’ll do anything you want. It’s been long enough that you know that, kid.” 

“But you also love your daughter more than anything else, so that’s why it took so much less out of her than it would’ve from me.” Harry says, reaching a hand up and touching Louis’ cheek. 

“Papa, I have a color for you.” Luna sings, running down the stairs. 

“Oh, thank goodness, love!” Louis exclaims back, sitting up. He passes Harry his wine glass. “Don’t get too wild with that, baby,” he winks. 

Luna sits on the floor in between Louis’ legs and grabs his hand in her own smaller ones. She starts painting his nails in a light shade of green, while everyone else bustles about in the house. Harry takes Louis’ hand once their daughter is done painting it and delicately blows cool air to help it dry. When he’s done, Louis pinches his nose and Luna pinches Louis’ knee and tells him to stop moving. 

Lottie watches the trio, standing in the doorway in a very similar manner to the way their mother once did. “I dunno how he keeps getting so lucky,” she says aloud. 

Dan shrugs, grabbing Doris as she tries to run by. “I think we all just get a bit lucky sometimes, don’t you?” 

Louis looks up at the two of them and shoots Lottie a glare.  _ I know you’re talking about me _ , he mouths, shaking his head disapprovingly. Lottie always fucking has to gossip. 

“You’re a model citizen, Lou. We’re just admiring it.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. His sister is also a dirty liar. Lottie comes to take the nail polish from Luna and shoots Louis a  _ look _ while she does it. “We were wondering how even when you had such shit luck with things you always manage to make gold out of it. It’s a talent, bro, and we applaud you for it.” 

“It’s the support system, I guess.” Louis shrugs like it’s no big deal, like he doesn’t know what kind of shit luck he’s had and what gold he’s bringing out of it. He knows what kind of gold he’s got, looking at Harry reminds him of it every single day. 

“Yeah.” he says decidedly. Harry looks at him curiously. “It’s the home. Having one, I mean, that makes the difference. Makes it gold.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! happy holidays to all of you!!!! 
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! 
> 
> come yell at me on twitter: @allgonnamakeit_   
> or my tumblr: @alwaysbearound


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